Skip to main content

Heaven must be a lonely place

Greatly enjoyed Louis Theroux's trip to the Westboro Baptist Church on BBC2 tonight. The congregation (mostly descendants of a patriarch named Gramps) hate gay people with a bizarre intensity and believe that the Iraq war is God's punishment for the decadent tolerance of homosexuality in America. They therefore picket funerals of American military personnel and celebrate the troops' assassination at the hands of Iraqi insurgents. It's apparently the will of God rather than Osama bin Laden.

Check out http://www.godhatesamerica.com/html/faq.html for one of the weirdest set of FAQs you're ever likely to find on the web.

Two things struck me as particularly odd about the Westboro Church. The first was that although they crusade against gay sex, they're also keen to avoid the heterosexual version. The young women in the group claimed not to be interested in men and didn't even consider the possibility of getting married. (If Gramps had taken the same view, these young women wouldn't be here today, but that point seemed to pass them by.) To them, marriage was a distraction that would just take up too much time. How could you possibly get hitched when you had a funeral of a dead soldier to picket?

The second weird aspect of the dogma was the belief that no one else on earth met the criteria for admission to heaven or seemed likely to qualify in the near future. We can only assume that life beyond the Pearly Gates is therefore some kind of extension of the Church's own back yard, perhaps complete with pickets and placards. The only difference would be the absence of the six billion fallen sinners that surround them here on earth. When Louis questioned whether the Church members really were the only people going upstairs on the Day of Judgement, he was told that if anyone else were preaching the true word of the Lord, news would surely have reached them by now.

Weird and wonderful telly.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Fawlty Towers script? Si, senor!

Ok, so I gave ChatGPT the following scenario: "Imagine a theatrical script for a situation comedy set in a hotel in Torquay, England. The proprietor is called Basil, an eccentric man who believes the calibre of guests to be low. His wife, Sybil, is often frustrated by Basil's incompetence. They employ a Spanish waiter called Manuel, who struggles to understand English. Basil suspects that two guests, who claim to be married, may be lying." Here's what our favourite AI came up with: Scene: The hotel lobby in Torquay, England. Basil is standing behind the reception desk, looking at a piece of paper. Sybil is standing next to him, looking annoyed. Manuel is hovering nearby, trying to look busy. Basil: (to Sybil) I don't know why we get such low-calibre guests at this hotel. Look at these two - Mr. and Mrs. Smith. They claim to be married, but I suspect they might be lying. Sybil: (sighing) Basil, it's not our job to judge the marital status of our guests. Just m

It's been a tough year. Let's give ourselves a clap.

If something didn’t smell right about the UK handling of the pandemic, the British public was never going to notice. But they knew that if they couldn’t smell something, they really ought to get a Covid test sent to them in the post. There has been something incredibly British about the DIY swabs and their delivery via the gig-economy workers of Amazon, hasn’t there? Touch of corona? I’ll pop something in the post to you. Should be with you tomorrow. I suppose it was inevitable that we’d need some new kind of system. After all, the coronavirus outbreak was the first thing in the history of the NHS that couldn’t be cured by paracetamol, rest and plenty of fluids. This understandably left GPs flummoxed and anxious. The UK decided pretty early on that if you were ill with a novel pathogen – which proved deadly in maybe 1% of cases – you really shouldn’t go to the doctor. You should STAY AT HOME and spread it quickly to your flatmates or family members. And because they were now at

The race for bogus Olympic stats

Of all the dubious statistics thrown around in relation to the London Olympics, the claim that there are '47 tube journeys in central London that can easily be walked' is surely one of the most misleading. I suspect it is based on the relative proximity of one station to an adjacent one. Embankment is walking distance from Temple. Charing Cross is a stone's throw from Leicester Square. But what exactly is a 'tube journey'? As I've understood it - and I'm only going on three decades' experience of using the network - it is a journey that takes you from any one place with a tube station to another. My journey from Leicester Square might take me to Charing Cross, but it might also lead me up the line to Camden Town or down south to Morden. In fact, from any one tube station - thanks to the wonders of interconnections - there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of options available to me. Now, I don't claim to have a PhD in mathematics, but the number of p